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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29391039">Guiding Light</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeelyd/pseuds/coffeelyd'>coffeelyd</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Toy Story (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Dancing, F/M, Family Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Slow Burn, Small Towns, eventual love, oh you better believe there'll be dancing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:27:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,512</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29391039</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeelyd/pseuds/coffeelyd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Pride is the family name, and for good reason. Jessie Pride earned everything she’s ever owned, without help from anyone. One day, when her brother calls with bad news, she races to his rescue. She didn’t count on staying in town...or falling for anyone. // Human AU with small-town vibes</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bo Peep/Woody Pride, Jessie/Buzz Lightyear</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Off-Road Summer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I've been working on this on and off for a while, and thought I'd might as well post it! </p><p>Give me Gilmore-Girls-Vibes any day of the week, with the additions of couples I actually like ;) Let's pretend places are open and safe and we all live on a farm, and every day we'll walk to the diner and have a coffee. Heaven.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jessie Pride slammed the barn door so the frame cracked like a gunshot. Al wasn’t far behind, stomping behind her dusty tracks as she made a beeline for her truck. “Yeah, break my door, why don’t ya!” Al barked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re lucky I didn’t break your nose, too!” she snarled back. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Jerk!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Al kicked a footful of dirt so it splashed against the backs of her boots, but thankfully, didn’t follow her to the driveway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jessie slid into the driver’s seat and shoved the key into the ignition slot. With the hot pleather chair branding the backs of her thighs, Jessie revved the engine and drove until Al’s Barn was nothing but a brown dot against the sunset.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fired. </span>
  </em>
  <span>After two years of loyal service, Al had fired Jessie and the rest of his farmhands without any kind of warning or a final paycheck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Al was by no means the best employer she’d ever had, but at least he provided his workers with living quarters. It was hard work for little pay, but work kept Jessie busy and at least it was a place to rest her head. She loved working in the sun, she loved taking care of the cows, and she loved watching those deep summer sunsets from her back porch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The barn would be sold by the week’s end, and Al would be long gone. She didn’t know if he’d skipped too many payments on the place or what, but all Jessie knew was that everyone working at Al’s was in the same position as she.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so, Jessie drove, seething and swearing and occasionally smacking the dashboard. The thick, summer air blew hard into her open windows. Her red braids whipped against her neck and the sun dipped lower until she reached the state line. She stopped the truck on the side of the empty road—low on gas—locked her doors, and didn’t sleep.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Unsure where to go and what to do with herself, Jessie spent the next few days driving somewhat aimlessly around town looking for work. For as long as she’d lived in the area, it was strange to her how little she knew her neighbors. Houses were few and far between, not to mention Al’s Barn was at least twenty miles from the nearest town. Jessie interacted with the other farmhands most of the time, or Al if she absolutely had to. It sure would have been nice to know people she could have asked about a job, she thought. Instead, Jessie spent her mornings sitting on a park bench, circling listings in the local paper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stayed in the cheapest motel room in the area and ate whatever she’d thought to bring from Al’s, which admittedly, wasn’t much. She had a plastic grocery bag in the passenger’s seat filled with a couple of mealy apples, a jar of peanut butter, and a half-eaten granola bar. She was grumpy and headachy by day three, and had to keep resisting the urge to splurge on a hot meal. She only had a little bit of money left over from her last paycheck, and told herself to be wise with it. Day four she said “screw it” and took herself to the diner she’d been eyeing since day one. She bought herself a plate of flapjacks, bacon, eggs, fruit, and multiple cups of coffee. Jesse hadn’t realized how hungry she was until the first bite of real food almost brought a tear to her eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the waitress came by to fill her cup again, a look of surprise came across her lined face. “You sure can put it away, girl. Thought you was a pixie when you walked in here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just hungry,” Jessie replied, glancing about the diner. It was bustling with travelers and road-trippers, bathed in summer morning glow. Jessie had served as a waitress in her hometown, but that was back in her teen years. “Actually, I was wonderin’ if y’all are hiring.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The waitress pursed her thickly coated lips. “Sorry, darlin’, we just hired a coupla kids for the summer. But do you have a resume? Be happy to take it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jessie did not have a resume, and felt rather sheepish saying so. But the waitress told her to come back at the end of the summer and ask again. It was kind of her, but didn’t help Jessie’s situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wanna make twenty bucks?” The man in the booth behind Jessie asked. He had his elbow on the partition, still chewing on his flapjacks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” said Jessie, although it wasn’t until the word left her mouth that she wished she hadn’t asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got a job you can do for me right now if you got five minutes, sweetheart,” he said with a wink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jessie stood up quickly, and the man’s laughter followed her all the way out the door. Once Jessie was safe in her car, she locked the doors and wished she had thought of a comeback in the moment. It wasn’t the first time she’d been harassed, catcalled, or even grabbed while traveling, but she wished it was one of those things that got easier to deal with the more it happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had to get off the road.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dang it!” Jessie muttered, realizing that she’d forgotten her coffee to-go cup back in the diner. There was no way she was going back to get it, not with truckers hanging around. She was so annoyed at the morning that she hardly noticed her phone vibrating on the passenger’s seat and quickly picked it up on the last ring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” she said, unable to hide the annoyance in her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Jessie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jessie blinked. That low drawl was unmistakable. “Woody! Wow, heya. It’s been a while, huh?” She suddenly felt a small pang of guilt somewhere in her chest. “I’m, uh, sorry I haven’t called or anything. I’ve been busy with the farm and whatnot, so I guess I just forgot…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jessie,” Woody said again. His tone was flat, and Jessie couldn’t help but think he was angry with her about something. He always seemed to know when she was in trouble—maybe it came with the sheriff job. She prepared herself for a stern talking-to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uncle Andy passed away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jessie’s jaw loosened with shock. “He...</span>
  <em>
    <span>what?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s gone, Jess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence hung thick in the receiver, but Jessie’s mind reeled with noise. She tried to remember the last time she saw Uncle Andy—probably two years ago for Christmas. That was a long time. Guilt stung her again. Had she known he was sick? Was she too selfish to remember any health problems might have had?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a heart attack,” Woody told her. Jessie tried to focus on what he was saying. Heart attack. He’d had one of those before, Jessie remembered, but that was back when she was a gangly teen with buck-teeth and acne. After Uncle Andy had returned from the hospital, he went right back to his farm work as though he hadn’t been ill. Naturally, she thought he’d conquered it forever. He was unshakable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Happened last night,” continued Woody in a voice so dejected and un-Woody-like that it scared her. “He could have been sleeping, so at least...at least he went quietly, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jessie gripped the phone until her palm was sweating. “Can I come?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a small sigh on the other end of the line. “Yeah. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jessie hung up the phone and stepped on the gas, speeding in the direction of Sunnyside Hollow.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Jessie drove through the night, and only stopped to fill her truck with gas. The pickup was older than she was, but more reliable. It had carried her across the country on multiple occasions. However, the way it shuddered when she hit the highway made Jessie think it was starting to die. She willed it to get her to town first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, old girl,” Jessie growled, steering the jittering vehicle off the highway and onto a dirt road. She recognized the old sycamore tree spilling over a broken fence, and knew she was close. “Just a bit further…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, after eight-hundred-ninety miles, the truck finally broke down. It gave one great shudder, and screeched to a halt with its wheel on the curb, right in front of the sign that read, “Welcome to Sunnyside Hollow” in faded, yellow letters. It didn’t look much different from her teenage memories—although the post office seemed to have replaced it’s old turquoise paint in favor of a more subtle brown to match the brick on the sidewalk. The place even smelled the same: old wood, and air twinged with honeysuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jessie hopped down from the driver’s seat, sweaty and tired, and stood on the hot pavement to look around the town square. She was grateful that the truck had carried her most of the way, but it looked like she’d have to walk the rest. Woody and Jessie used to walk from Uncle Andy’s house to town all the time. He’d give them money to buy an ice cream from the general store, and they’d walk back with sticky chocolate dripping down their hands. The way to his house was ingrained in the soles of her feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss, you can’t park here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jessie swung around, and had to hold up her hand to block the setting sun. The broad man stepped off the curb, extracting a notepad from his vest pocket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t park here,” Jessie said. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>broke down</span>
  </em>
  <span> here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scribbled something, and maybe it was her exhaustion, but the action made Jessie quite annoyed. “Can I help you with something, mister?” she asked. “Or are you just nosy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked up. He had blue eyes—very blue—and she was just wondering why on earth he was wearing trousers in the heat of summer when he flashed her his badge. “Buzz Lightyear,” he said, slipping the star-shaped metal back onto his belt. “Police department.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jessie swallowed. “Okay, officer,” she said, puffing herself up to seem more confident than she felt, “I’ve got a family emergency, and I don’t got time to take care of this hunk of crap right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The officer flipped his notebook shut and stepped back to observe her rusty, slightly steaming vehicle with a look of doubt. “Well, you can’t leave it here,” he said. “You’re going to have to get it towed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jessie ran her hand through her frizzy bangs, debating whether or not she was annoyed enough to cuss out a police officer. She definitely didn’t have the money to pay for the truck to get fixed, and Woody was waiting for her. “Sorry, but I really don’t have time for this,” she said, flinging open the passenger’s side to grab her knapsack.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The officer followed her around the car and grasped the door, preventing her from shutting it. His quickness surprised her—and on closer inspection, she didn’t think she could wrap both of her skinny hands around one of his biceps. He could easily pin an arm around her back and arrest her right there. Jessie was a lot of talk, but she couldn’t fight off a bonafide Sunnyside cop with arms that thick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re not responsible for abandoned vehicles,” he told her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course you’re not.” Jessie ducked under the officer’s arm and half-expected an arrest for sassing a police officer. He didn’t make any signs of cuffing her, so she hurried down the sidewalk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s all yours, chief!” Jessie called over her shoulder. She didn’t like the idea of having her truck impounded, which would most likely happen, but the summer night air was intoxicating after being cooped up in her un-air conditioned truck all those days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A chorus of cicadas sang her down the old dirt road. Night was falling, so Jessie picked up the pace. She rounded the bend and followed the white fence towards the entrance of the long drive. She always thought Uncle Andy’s house to be beautiful, despite what her mother always said. It had an arched roof with missing blue tiles, worn wood finish, and a long porch decked with chairs for company. Warm light poured out of the front windows and spilled onto the lawn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the sun completely set, a lean figure stepped out of the front door. He was cast in shadow, but Jessie would have known that brother of hers anywhere. She sprinted down the path and launched herself into his outstretched arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, cowgirl,” said Woody, and he ruffled her hair. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Woody looked just as Jessie remembered, although perhaps a little worn in places. The bags under his eyes hinted at many a sleepless night. He made a pot of coffee as Jessie lounged at the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You used to hate this stuff,” he noted, taking a sip of his coffee, black.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The years have made me cynical,” Jessie joked, adding a few splashes of cream for good measure. “Dang, I’m tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must have driven without stopping. I called you, what, yesterday?” Woody chuckled. “I’m surprised you got here in one piece.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>More or less,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jessie thought, remembering her poor truck. “I wanted to get here as soon as I could.” She met Woody’s dim, brown eyes. “Oh, Woody. I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His shoulders rose and fell. He smiled at her again, but he was always the one to put on a brave face for her. “Me, too,” he said. “I feel like I was just talking to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jessie nodded earnestly. There was a part of her that felt sick with guilt. She wished she’d sucked it up last Christmas and drove out to visit Uncle Andy. But mentioning it would only make it seem like she was grasping for attention. She almost wished she felt worse that he was gone, but she just didn’t know him as well as Woody did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was her own fault, she guessed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The coffee energized them enough to talk until the moon rose high in the night sky. Jessie wanted to hear everything she’d missed, which Woody claimed “wasn’t much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just helping Uncle Andy keep the farm, mostly,” he said. “And Sheriff things. Nothing major.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jessie aimed a playful kick at him under the table. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nothing major,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she mimicked. “So how does it feel to be the new sheriff in town? Catch any bad guys yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stopped a robbery last week.” Woody leaned back in his chair, casually. “Ten-year old. Tried to steal a candy bar from the general store, but Sheriff Woody was on the case.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jessie laughed. “Sounds like this old place is hopping.” She stopped for a moment, listening to the crickets sing. “One of your cop buddies gave me crap for my truck today. No wonder—he must’ve been bored out of his mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened to your truck?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” she lied. “He said I couldn’t park somewhere, but there was no one around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That would be my deputy; always dotting his I’s and crossing his T’s,” Woody said, mischief tugging the corner of his mouth. “He’s taking care of my duties while I take a few days to...well, you know, prepare for the funeral.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Right.” Jessie added more cream to her coffee, rather sheepishly. “When is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m helpin’ with any preparations or meal-cookin’ or whatever you need,” said Jessie. “So just let me know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Woody just nodded his thanks, looking more tired than ever. Jessie wasn’t sure how well she could deliver on that promise--sometimes she marveled at how she could take care of her own self. But it was all the comfort she could offer her brother in the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They said goodnight, and Jessie took the old bedroom she used to stay in as a girl. She fished some clean sheets from the closet and made the creaky bed. She could see the whole property from her window: the peeling paint on the barn, the top of the chicken coop, the paddocks and the forest of trees beyond. Jessie leaned on her windowsill, tracing the wood frame with a fingernail as the fireflies dotted the ground like little stars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An almost nostalgic feeling washed over her. It was woven in the rosebud wallpaper and the floorboards beneath her bare feet. She remembered a young Jessie running through those heather fields, red braids flashing in the sun. She remembered dirt between her toes, riding bareback with a smiling Uncle Andy handling the reins. His smile was warmer than the summer sun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jessie leaned her forehead against the cool windowpane. The feeling was sad. It tugged quietly at her chest, memories begging to be remembered.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Wake</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The day of the funeral dawned with the promise of rain. Jessie got up early—she hadn’t slept, anyway—and she grabbed some eggs from the coop for breakfast. Uncle Andy’s fridge was empty, and Woody hadn’t had time to get groceries. In fact, the whole kitchen was barely stocked, which didn’t surprise Jessie all that much. Two bachelors living together equaled takeout and delivery pizza.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the eggs sizzled in the pan, Jessie wondered about the state of Andy’s farm now that he was gone. Would Woody sell the old place? That included whatever livestock was left, plus the land. The thought made her sad.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Woody trumped downstairs at half past ten, shrugging his shoulders into a black suit jacket that looked slightly too big for his thin frame. He said he wasn’t hungry, but Jessie made him eat. When he fumbled with his tie, Jessie slapped his hands away and tied it for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where’d you learn to tie a tie?” Woody asked, eyes narrowing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pop let me tie his before work sometimes,” she replied easily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh,” he said. “You didn’t learn it from living with someone? A boyfriend?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“No.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jessie tightened the fabric so Woody coughed. “You think I’d be livin’ with some suit and not tell ya? Honestly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Woody rubbed his neck sourly. “Ex-</span>
  <em>
    <span>cuse</span>
  </em>
  <span> me, you just hop around so much I can’t keep track of you. I didn’t know you were going to live with this ‘Al’ guy until you were already on the road.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jessie groaned, grabbing the egg-encrusted pan to scrub viciously in the sink.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Living with him? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ugh</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’d rather’ve eaten dirt. I was a farmhand, Woody. I lived in a farmhouse with the other farmhands—” Woody opened his mouth, and Jessie promptly cut him off with “—girls only.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you don’t need to be huffy about it.” Woody fiddled again with his tie. “It’s my job to know what my baby sister’s doing. I barely heard from you in two years, so I—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jessie gripped the edges of the counter. This was exactly the conversation she was trying to avoid. “I was just trying to get my life together. I didn’t want you worrying about me.” She tossed her sponge so it splatted wetly in the sink. “Pop and Emily couldn’t wait for me to get out of their house, so I did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey.” Woody came over and put his hand on her shoulder. She bit back hot tears. The can of worms was open, and on the day of their uncle’s funeral. “I just wanted to know that you were okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She took a shuddering breath and nodded, not trusting herself with words. She couldn’t bear to tell Woody—smart, successful, big-brother Woody—that she’d lost the one thing she got all on her own. For lack of a better word, she was homeless. Not only that, Mom and Pop had been right about her all along. She wasn’t smart enough to help them run their business—not that she wanted to—and now she couldn’t even hold down a simple stall-mucking job.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have to beat yourself up so much,” Woody said, as if reading her thoughts. “Mom and Pop...they’re not the ones you should be asking for approval. They’re not even showing up today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jessie raised her eyebrows, though admittedly, she wasn’t entirely surprised. They’d been furious when Woody announced he would </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> be helping Pop with the Pride Law Firm, and was instead moving out to live with Andy on the farm. They hadn’t spoken since.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re actually here, and I’m glad,” Woody continued seriously. “Okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wouldn’t tell him she lost her job. That could wait for another day.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>The funeral was held at the chapel, and Woody suggested they walk. Jessie didn’t mention that it looked like it might rain, so she quietly grabbed an umbrella and followed him down the dirt path.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jessie didn’t have much to wear in terms of funeral clothes, or anything other than work clothes. She had donned her darkest pair of jeans and her only black top--a sweater, which collected lint and hair from everything in the vicinity. She’d wrestled her hair into two braids and muttered a “good enough” before heading out the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jessie and Woody walked to the church without saying much, and took their seats in the front-most pew. Woody commented that he wouldn’t be surprised if “everyone in town showed up.” She assumed he was joking until all the seats were filled. She felt terribly underdressed in the shadow of stained glass windows, and next to women with elegant black hats.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry for your loss, Sheriff.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A woman had stopped right in front of the pew. Her golden hair was pulled back in a modest bun, and she had one of those little black dresses that Jessie was admiring. She even wore a black shawl around her shoulders, which Jessie always thought was a clothing piece reserved for older women. The lady couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, and appeared very chic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Woody stood up at once. “Oh, uh, thank you for coming, Miss Peepe,” he said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stood facing each other for a few prolonged seconds, just looking. Jessie waited impatiently. Then, tired of the silence, she stood up. “I’m Jessie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Woody seemed to just realize she was there. “Uh, yes right. Miss Peepe, this is my little sister.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The pretty woman shook Jessie’s hand. “Call me Bo,” she said. Her smile looked genuine. She didn’t seem like the type of person who could look anything </span>
  <em>
    <span>but</span>
  </em>
  <span> genuine. “So good to meet you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Miss Peepe here runs the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shepherd’s Crook Cafe</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” said Woody. “Serves up the best coffee in the state of Oregon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll have lots at the wake later,” Bo said, then in an undertone, “And the bar’s right down the street in case you might need something stronger.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jessie met a few other people in a similar fashion. Woody introduced her as his sister, people would say their “sorrys”, and Jessie would smile awkwardly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very sad business, Sheriff.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, he was a good man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you’re taking over the property, eh? That’s a big place,” noted one of the gentlemen giving his condolences. He had a large, black mustache and a woman of his exact, short stature on his arm. “You could probably sell it, y’know. Make a pretty penny.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Smart,” chimed one of the other portly gentlemen. “I’ll bet there’s a horde of people wanting to buy a property like that. It’ll be funny to see city folk try to figure out what to do with it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, stop it, you two,” hissed the woman, whacking her husband once with her red handbag. “Have some </span>
  <em>
    <span>class.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>People were already teary-eyed as they shook Woody’s hand, and Jessie felt like she should have felt more emotional  than she did. The service finally started, and put a welcome end to the meet-and-greet. Woody was solemn throughout the eulogy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As the party trekked through the damp fields towards the gravesite to say the final goodbye, Woody did cry. In fact, he bawled. Jessie had never seen him lose his composure in her life. He splayed his palms on Andy’s coffin lid and let sobs wrack his body. It wasn’t until she was reaching out to comfort her brother that Jessie realized her eyes were wet, too.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>When it rained, it poured. Woody and Jessie avoided the worst of it thanks to Uncle Andy’s umbrella, but unfortunately it didn’t save their shoes from getting soaked through. They sloshed all the way to Bo’s café for the wake, and left a wet trail of footprints inside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The place was warm, from the temperature to the little string lights adorning the walls. The worn brick walls and wooden chairs suggested something cozy and modern. The place looked almost cobbled together, not quite a coffee shop and not quite an Americana diner. Jessie liked the place as soon as she stepped in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cafe soon filled with wake-goers and surrounded Woody, so Jessie took the opportunity to slip outside the crowd. She hung against one of the brick walls, picking lint and long red hairs off of her sweater, praying she wouldn’t have to meet any more strangers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Needed to get away, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was Bo. She’d donned a white apron over her funeral dress, a coffee pot in one hand and a bowl-sized mug in the other. She was already pouring the steaming liquid as she said, “Can’t blame you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jessie took the proffered cup, warming her hands on the ceramic. “I hoped I might recognize more people.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bo looked sympathetic. “The Sheriff mentioned you used to come to the farm as kids,” she said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jessie nodded, and took a sip of coffee. She blinked. It was good, even without milk or sugar. “We pretty much begged our parents to stay with Uncle Andy every summer.” Jessie glanced up, curious. “Did you know him well?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bo looked thoughtful. “I’ve only been here about two years, myself,” she said. “But Mr. Davis ordered a coffee every single morning. Black, two sugars. Always tipped, even though I told him not to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That sounded like Uncle Andy. “Does Woody come in, too?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, yes. I always see him on my shifts. That brother of yours can eat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No wonder he doesn’t keep food in the house,” Jessie said, half exasperated, half amused. “He only eats here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Bo laughed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jessie had a sneaking suspicion that Woody wasn’t coming to the cafe every day just for the food, but she didn’t mention this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The wake wore on, and Jessie drank her coffee in relative solitude. Townspeople trickled in and out to pay their respects and eat and chat. Jessie did her best to smile and introduce herself to anyone who asked. When that tired her out, Jessie sat at the counter, picking at a plate of relatively untouched food. When she figured it was time to get out of Bo Peepe’s hair, Jessie looked around and realized that the cafe had mostly emptied out, but she didn’t see Woody anywhere. She waited for him to appear, maybe emerge from the bathroom or a back room. She even stuck her head out the cafe door in the rain, but Woody was nowhere to be found.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have any of you seen Woody?” Jessie called behind the counter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bo called for someone named “Rex”, and a kid with limbs like a baby colt tripped out from the back room. “Uh, I think he said something about going on a walk?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Uncle Andy’s umbrella was still leaning on the coat rack, so wherever Woody had shambled off to, he was most likely sopping wet. Jessie said a quick “thank you” to Bo and the staff and grabbed it to brave the rain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Evening fell quickly. The street lamps illuminated as she sloshed by, their warm glow reflecting in spots off the wet pavement. She started to wonder if Woody had walked home alone. But why hadn’t he told her? Then, she passed by a tavern; the neon blue sign proclaimed </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Potatoheads: OPEN.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Something clicked into place, and Jessie went in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Woody was hunched at the bar, nursing a glass of something. Jessie made a beeline for him, knowing she was leaving wet footprints on the floorboards. “Hey,” she said, giving his shoulder a poke.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Woody lolled his head around. His eyes looked somewhere past her. “Hey, sis,” he replied. “Want a sip?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jessie wrinkled her nose. Woody had breath like dead things. “No thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Suit yourself.” Woody raised his glass, looking solemn. “To Andy Davis. Best man, best uncle, best man. Miss you, partner.” He downed the brown liquid in one gulp. Then his head promptly crashed onto the bar. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Poor Sheriff,” said the man behind the counter. Jessie recognized him from the wake as he ran a hand over his black mustache with concern. “Maybe you better get him home, little lady, before anyone sees.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jessie heaved a sigh. Woody should have been allowed to wallow as he pleased, especially today. Unfortunately, the “sheriff” title meant something, and she did agree that the sooner he was home, the better. Jessie slipped Woody’s arm over her shoulder and hauled him to his feet. “You’re heavy,” she wheezed, trying to catch the eye of the bartender for a hand, but he had disappeared. “Geez, Woody. Do you have bricks in your pockets?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Woody moaned incoherently, and gravity soon claimed him to the floor. He lay there sleepily, completely sloshed, and made no move to get back up. Jessie’s sympathy was quickly fading.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not dragging you all the way home,” she told him sternly. She grabbed him by the armpits, but he was immovable. “You’re the one who wanted to walk this morning, remember?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Someone in the bar, thankfully, came to her rescue. He yanked Woody to his feet and slung Woody’s limp arm around his broad shoulders. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, Buzz,” Woody slurred. The name sent off sirens in Jessie’s head, and she finally recognized the cop who had threatened to tow her car. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Buzz Lightyear looked pointedly at Jessie. She flinched. “Could you get the door, please?” he asked, readjusting his grip on Woody’s floppy stance. “He really doesn’t want to be upright.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jessie pushed open the door wide enough for Buzz and Woody to just squeeze through. She quietly followed them down the steps. The sound of their shoes crunching on parking lot gravel mingled with a chorus of crickets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Real nice,” Woody observed, his neck back to gaze at the sky. Buzz stumbled once under the shift in weight. “Uncle Andy loved these stars.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jessie wasn’t sure how to tactfully tell the deputy that she didn’t have a car, if he recalled. But Buzz kept walking until they came upon a police car. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you don’t have to…” Jessie began, more out of awkwardness than politeness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Buzz was already shoving Woody into the backseat. “You didn’t think I was going to let you drag him all the way home, did you?” he asked. “Not like that, anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He held open the door, eyebrows raised with expectancy. Jessie had never ridden in a cop car before, and immediately didn’t like how dark and small the backseat was. But she needed to make sure Woody didn’t pass out or whack his head on something. Jessie swallowed her pride and climbed in after Woody. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They pulled out of the bar’s lot and drove back through town. Jessie kept her gaze out the window and not on the black grate that separated the backseat from the front. She watched fireflies blur by.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“About your truck,” started Buzz, and Jessie saw the blues of his eyes flash in the rearview mirror. “It’s at the mechanic’s.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jessie had to process what he’d said. “You didn’t send it off to the junkyard or have it impounded?” she asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked surprised. “I wouldn’t have done that,” he said, as though the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hamm said it wouldn’t take him long. You can probably pick it up tomorrow.” The car slowed as they eased down Andy’s driveway. Buzz continued, “I, uh. wanted to give you two my condolences. I wish I could have been at the funeral, but…well, someone has to be on duty.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jessie nodded, although she didn’t think he could see her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The tires crunched as they pulled into the long driveway. Buzz insisted on helping a half-conscious Woody into the house, and Jessie instructed him to drop Woody on the living room sofa. It was easier than hauling him up the steep staircase.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Buzz had finally left, Jessie dropped one of the throw blankets over Woody’s face and sank into the chair adjacent to the fireplace. Woody’s snores filled the living room, mixed with the sound of rain pittering against the windowpane. Jessie suddenly hated the idea of climbing up to an empty upstairs all by herself. She didn’t believe in ghosts, but she couldn’t deny the drumming of her heart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jessie kicked off her wet boots and peeled off her socks. So Lightyear had taken her car to the shop for her. She wondered why, but hadn’t had the confidence to ask.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jessie curled up in the upholstered armchair across from her brother, and fell into a restless sleep amidst a chorus of snores.</span>
</p>
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